Eccentric Aficionada

Saffron turban on the head,

Walking carefree upon sand,

The crimples and creases on thy,

Clothe, bringing the scent of desert,

Bringing the scent of camel along,

A deal with the sun, fair one,

 

He promised, he would throw heat,

When thy foot touches the grounds,

Of sand as far as eyes go, in the midst,

Of this heat, her lover comes from,

The farthest lands she has never seen,

He says it’s there, and she believes,

 

Peering from the little window,

Of her mud home, certainly not big,

But a heaven inside, a bed with sheets,

Of dyed colorful cotton, with beads,

And mirrors, floor of straw and dung,

He comes in, with half body bent,

Tall is lover hers’, doors are small,

Masculine and tanned, all eyes,

Envy, women and men zealous,

Of erotic love saga of them

Hot days ties them in oneness,

Twain bodies wet inside the hut,

 

Nights are cool for him to return,

To the lands distant where he disappear,

With dawn, her eyes lay upon again,

On the dusty paths, where his footprints,

Remain; and walks on them myriad,

Feet, her beloved, what kind of love!

 

The moon and night silently whispers,

In his ears, to make him stop,

Forever, she desires the same, Alas!

The merchant of love is he, he spreads glee,

His caravan stops never, his camel rests never,

He is the eccentric aficionada,

Whom she has fallen in love with………………………………………..

 

*Monalisa Joshi*

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